An English correspondent of the Post gives the following account of the production of Aristophanes' comedy of the "Birds" at Cambridge, England:

"The recent production of the "Birds" of Aristophanes was regarded by the committee as rather a hazardous undertaking, for although Greek tragedy has now abundantly proved its power over modern audiences, it was thought very doubtful if the old comedy was equally suitable for revival. And, notwithstanding the brilliant success of the performances, this doubt has been in great part justified, for most of the fun and fooling in the play resembled a modern pantomime too closely to be very interesting or impressive, while when the satire was mot of a modern kind, its point was entirely missed, except by the learned few. There was no idea dominating the whole play and leaving its impress upon the spectators; on the contrary, its interest consisted of variety of incident, and its success was owing to the admirable manner in which the incidents were acted. The leading parts were all acted with remarkable power and ease. Peithetairos spoke his eight hundred lines as readily as if Greek were the only language he knew, without an instant's pause or cessation of vivacity, and Euelpides kept the audience in constant laughter by his comic appearance and his ridiculous "business." The intelligence with which every actor contrived to render his own part an essential feature in the fun of the play was the most striking feature of the performance. Euelpides, for instances, when he was on the stage at one time without speaking, essayed his new wings in a series of extremely ridiculous attempts at flight from the top of the alter, each ending, of course, in disastrous collapse. The Birds were constantly engaged in some comical tricks, one of them going so far so to peck the long hair of the violoncellist in the orchestra, to the great amusement of the audience and the embarrassment of the worthy man. Herakles drank off the contents of the saucepan in which Peithetairos was cooking, when the latter's back was turned; and Prometheus, hiding Zeus under the sunshade, introduced as much comic "business" as an actor in a screaming farce. These things, and the brilliancy of the spectacle, and the delightful music of Dr. Hubert Parry, secured the present success, but it is improbable that another comedy will be produced in the series of classical revivals which bid fair to become a regular institution at Cambridge.

The costumes of the 'Birds' were probably less conventional and more picturesque than those actually employed by Aristophanes and their ornithological accuracy was secured as nearly as possible by Prof. Newton. Their dress consisted of a bird's head with an appropriate beak, covering the head of the actor, except an oval opening for his face, and wings reaching from the shoulders to the knees and enveloping the arms, by which they were moved from within. Some of the birds had long necks extending several feet above the heads of the actors; these were swans, a spoon-ball, and a gorgeous flamingo. The bright colors and picturesque attitudes of this chorus made the 'Birds' a far more brilliant spectacle than either the 'CEdipus' or the 'Ajax.' The final scene was especially striking. On each side of the stage the Birds were grouped like infantry prepared to receive cavalry, the front rank crouching close to the ground, wrapped in their wings, the next row standing with their wings stretched out from the shoulders, and those behind extending their wings into the air; in the centre Peithetairos and Basileia, seated, in white wedding garments, with Euelpides, Prometheus, Herakles, Poscidon, and Triballos around them, and the hoopoe at the back spreading his broad yellow wings above them all. As before, Dr. Charles Waldstein, who has just been appointed the director of the Fitzwilliam Museum, at Cambridge, had charge of the stage management and the archaeology of the undertaking.